


Sunday Morning Bike Ride

by Lilsi



Category: The Bill
Genre: Gen, Leather, M/M, Motorbike
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-20
Updated: 2014-04-20
Packaged: 2018-01-20 04:07:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1496044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lilsi/pseuds/Lilsi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Craig pulls over a bike for speeding. It's not the driver that gets his attention though.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fanfiction was once posted at Craiggilmore.co.uk a fan site no longer active, so to preserve this story and others, I am importing them to AO3. I did not want the loss of such a large amount of amazing and wonderful fanfiction, it would be such a waste to fans of Craig Gilmore and Luke Ashton to not have the opportunity to enjoy these stories as i have. Since the site is no longer active i have been unable to contact the creators but if you happen to be them under a new pen name and want the fiction to be removed please send me a note!
> 
> Story written by - Alex
> 
> Written for the Mother's Day Marathon challenge

March 2004 

Scene: The cliff top road on the outskirts of Brighton (it's the A259 but it's really not that important):

...

 

There is something a little more than vaguely satisfying about pulling a biker over for doing a ton on the coast road early in the Spring, on a fine Sunday morning.  It's not that he wants to ruin their day but – let's face it – if he's got to be at work why shouldn't other people have to suffer too.

 

“If you would just switch the engine off please sir?  And dismount from the vehicle.”

 

The throb of the engine dies leaving the seagulls' mournful wails as they glide gracefully overhead the only sounds to be heard above the buffeting of the wind.  The pillion passenger swings one leg carelessly over the back of the seat to stand in the road.  The rider, still astride the machine, kicks the stand down before pushing their visor up slowly.

 

“Madam.  Sorry.  If you could just come and stand over here with me a moment.  And your passenger too please?”

 

She, and of course it would have to be a 'she' wouldn't it? This is the twenty first century after all, if it's good enough for a bloke to have a midlife crisis why shouldn't a forty-something female be entitled?  Big boy toy motorbike and matching toy boy accessory pack included.  Which might explain why the pillion passenger is hanging back so awkwardly – still with his grey tinted visor down – shifting from foot to foot on the grass verge almost like a small child in need of a pee.  It would be funny if it if it wasn't beginning to make him just a touch nervous.  He was just having a little jolly round his patch, on his own , it is his prerogative as Inspector - especially on sunny days.  Sussex isn't like London, well not first thing in the morning anyway, not generally, not on a Sunday.  There's no real need for there to be another body in the car with him.  He picks up the radio hanging on his chest, he's sure that the someone behind that visor is watching him intently.

 

“This is Bravo Delta 1.  Can I have a PNC check please?”

 

“It'll take a moment Sir, the computer is giving us gyp this morning.”

 

“Quick as you can then Barry.  It's a silver grey Kawasaki -”

 

“ZZR” says the woman's voice.

 

“ZZR - license: Golf Uniform, four fife, Echo Charlie Delta.”

 

“Sir” crackles Barry's voice over the air.

 

“Right then madam”  Now she's removed her helmet he can see she's attractive (if you like women which he doesn't – well not like that anyway).  He doesn't know what he'd been expecting: peroxide blonde hair straggling down her back, cherry pink lipstick and blue eyeshadow to match her leathers possibly.  _They_   really should have given him a hint when he'd first pulled her over, navy leathers, no bloke would wear blue leathers (Well possibly Clive, actually yes definitely Clive but he'd shriek like a girl if it was ever suggested he got on a motorcycle in them in).  Instead there's a mane of golden brown hair subtly styled into a bob - he thinks that's possibly what they still call it - which swings against the collar of her jacket when she moves her head; clear skin with a smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose; soft hazel brown eyes and a nicely shaped mouth totally devoid of lipstick of any kind.

 

“Officer?”

 

“Do you realise how fast you were travelling?”

 

“Yes officer, I'm afraid I do.” She bites her bottom lip.

 

“One hundred miles an hour on this stretch of road is really quite preposterous!”

 

“I'm sorry officer.” Oddly enough she sounds like she means it.  “It just looked so inviting...”

 

“Is this your vehicle madam?”

 

“Umm.”  Her eyes shift to the slender figure still hovering a few feet away, who looks down at his boots, viciously jabbing at stone with his toe so it skitters into the gutter.  “No it's his.” She points.

 

“You _do_ have a license that allows you to ride a motorcycle I take it?”

 

“Oh yes officer.”

 

“May I see it then please?”

 

“Certainly.” She removes her gloves and runs her neatly manicured hands over the contours of her jacket.  “If I can find the right pocket.” She grins.  “If I can find _any_ pocket really.  The people that design these things are really clever, there's a space for everything.  BUT I don't think they want you to find anything again afterwards.”

 

Craig's prepared to wait, the gulls have screamed their way out to sea and the breeze has died down, far below, in the distance, there's a white sailed yacht tacking lazily across the water.  He crooks his finger at the black clad passenger, gesturing him to come over, just as his radio crackles into life. 

 

“Ah!” she exclaims delightedly, “here you go.”

 

“Bravo Delta to Bravo Delta 1?”

 

With her still unexamined photo-license clutched in his hand he bends his head to deal with the call.

 

“Receiving, over.”

 

“I have the information you require, regarding a motorcycle-”

 

“Could you just hang on one moment Bravo Delta”

 

“Sir”

 

“I gather this machine belongs to you sir.”

 

The helmet nods once slowly.

 

“If you could just remove the helmet for me please sir?  Go ahead Barry.”

 

“License number Golf Uniform, four fife, Echo Charlie Delta,”

 

The young man, Craig's almost prepared for anything now, but he _knows_ men's bodies and despite the efficient, scuffed leathers this guy is wearing he's positive it isn't going to be anyone much over the age of 25.

 

“belongs to a silver Kawasaki,”

 

The man beside him, still with his visor down, pushes his gunmetal grey helmet up slowly, revealing a profile that is as recognisable to Craig as his own dear mother's.

 

“Registered keeper a Mister,”

 

“Luke Ashton!” Craig exclaims.

 

“17 Goldings Drive, Guildford.” finishes Barry.

 

....

 

Christmas 2004

Scene:  Mary and Ted Gilmore's dining room, 14, Symmons Street, Swansea.  The parents' first meeting.  Craig drove Jenny and Luke in his red Ford Mondeo along the M4, the trip took a tad over three hours - he turned a deaf ear to Jenny's mutterings that she could have completed it, on two wheels, in less.

...

 

“So you see Mary,” says Jenny Ashton placing her wine glass back onto the snowy white tablecloth before her, “If I was a sensible parent, which I'm not, when I hit 40 I'd have gone to a Spa for a week or something like that, instead of setting my heart on being able to ride a Harley by the time I was 50.”

 

“Because if you hadn't finally passed your test in February.” says Craig.

 

“And if it hadn't been Mother's Day.” chants Luke.

 

They are well familiar with the story after all.

 

“And if _he_ wasn't such a soft touch, and hadn't let you loose on his pride and joy for a treat!” Craig rumples Luke's hair.

 

“And _someone_ hadn't wanted to idle an hour away by taking a totally unnecessary drive along the seafront _just_ because it was a sunny day,” puts in Luke, snatching Craig's hand away from his head and clasping it tightly on his lap.

 

“They wouldn't be together again right now.” finishes Jenny.

 

“Instead I'd have probably lost my job as a dispatch rider,” adds Luke, “I mean who would believe anyone who said it was their _mother_ riding like a maniac on a machine like that?”

 

“I certainly wouldn't if I hadn't seen it myself,” chuckles Craig

 

“So, was it worth the £60 and three points on your license then do you think?” Ted asks Jenny as he watches his son get a playful slap on the wrist from hers.

 

Jenny beams at him.  “Course it was.”

 

...

 

 

January 2005

Scene:  Luke's home in Surrey - follow the A281 away from Guilford town centre then- (no I shouldn't: we don't want anyone from their past lives tracking them down now do we?)

...

“Where are we going again?” Craig's voice floats down from upstairs.

 

“I just thought we'd mimble off down some country lanes to this nice little pub I know.  You'll like it: open beams, real fire in the saloon bar, real ale in the glasses.” --Really soft mattresses on the beds upstairs and, really, really hot water in the en suite bathrooms--he adds silently to himself.

“I feel ridiculous.” Craig's clothing creaks just a little as he makes his way down the stairs.  Looking up Luke watches Craig make his appearance admiringly: first those incredibly long legs of his - encased in his choice of soft black calfskin motorcycle jeans; then the fine grained jacket Luke had bought him for Christmas, the monotony of the black outfit now relieved by tongues of red flame licking their way up from Craig's wrists.  He licks his lips.

 

“You look gorgeous.”

 

“That's what you said yesterday when you stood me in the garden and rubbed that disgusting smelling stuff all over me.  I don't know what the neighbours must have thought.”

 

“It's called liquid leather conditioner.  Look after your leathers and your leathers will look after you.  Never forget that, it's important.”

 

“Couldn't I have at least have rubbed it on them myself when I wasn't wearing them?”

 

“It's more fun my way.”

 

Craig arches on eyebrow.  “It was just a ruse was it then?  An excuse so you could rub your hands all over my body while I was wearing leather.  I bet you didn't really need to do it at all did you?”

 

“Not yet,” mutters Luke quietly enough for Craig not to hear.

 

“Pardon?”

 

“Helmet.” he says loudly, thrusting Jenny's contribution to Craig's safety - a Dragon emblazoned helmet - towards him with one hand whilst brushing the hair back from his lover's face with the other.  He kisses him passionately for a moment then steps back to admire the effect, almost laughing aloud at the dazed expression on Craig's face.

 

“Hurry up and put it on then, you can't leave home without one.” 

 

Craig sketches a salute as he walks past him grinning.  “Yes sir!”

 

Luke pauses in the doorway, patting  his pockets, checking he's got everything: keys... gloves... wallet ... pack of three...He picks up his helmet from the shelf by the front door and saunters out into the pale sunshine. 

 

Craig waits beside the bike till Luke has it off the centre stand and the engine's running smoothly, then throws his leg over the seat and settles himself down onto the pillion his gloved hands loosely gripping the grab handle at the rear.  Luke smiles as he feels the tail end of the machine settle reassuringly then guns the engine, pulling away from the hard-standing with a touch more aggression than he would do normally.  Craig's arms fly round his waist.  Which is just what he'd hoped for. 

 

Now all he needs is for Craig to never want to let go.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Authors note: It isn't morning. It isn't a bike ride. It's what happened upstairs in the pub.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part two of Alex's Bike Ride.

The bedroom door closes behind them and Luke takes both helmets, depositing them on the table beside him.  Craig leans back against the door, taking a moment to appreciate the enormous bed on the other side of the room before wrapping his arms around Luke's slender body and tugging him back towards him.

 

The twin sounds of their jackets hitting the floor simultaneously barely registers as Craig plunges his tongue into Luke's waiting mouth, kissing him fiercely.

 

Luke pulls back a little laughing softly, cupping Craig's face in his hands; controlling the situation.

 

"Craig, slow down, we've got all night."

 

The willing, experienced lover Luke has become is far removed from the confused, frightened bed-mate he had been two long years ago - who'd shivered against Craig in the darkness more from fear than excitement.  Craig wishes, not for the first time since their chance encounter last March, that _that_ had been the start of it all for them.  That this confident self-assured Luke was the only one he'd ever known.

 

 

Luke's breath is hot on his face, his fingers raking through his hair, massaging over his scalp.   Fingertips briefly caress the tips of his ears, making him gasp, before warm palms smooth over his cheekbones, holding him back; making him wait.  Craig loves Luke like this.  He licks his lips, unable to help dipping his head, trying to catch Luke's mouth with his own.  He skims his fingers lightly over Luke's chest, his hands moving down over the thick, pale grey cotton t-shirt to pull it from the constricting waistband of the heavy leather trousers.

 

He hates them.

 

Yet even as one hand slips under the fabric across Luke's firmly-muscled stomach, the other is kneading unbidden into...

 

Not Luke's everyday leathers these: nothing like as stiff and heavy.  He can't think how he hadn't noticed when they were riding over here, or in the bar downstairs.  Because what is under his fingers now is more like a second skin; so fantastically soft, smooth and supple he can sink his fingers right into it and feel Luke right _there_ beneath them.

  

He sucks at Luke's shoulder, pressing his fingers into the buttery richness of expensive new leather stretched tight across Luke's arse.  He can't get over how great it feels and wonders how he's managed to have been with Luke this long and not have been so turned on by it before.

 

Craig shivers, groaning quietly as Luke's hands slide over his hips, mouthing at his neck as he pushes against him, grinding his thigh into Craig's crotch, causing the pressure on his trapped cock to mount to an almost unbearable level.

 

“You taste _so_ good,” Luke murmurs against his throat, licking at him, breaking off when Craig manages to lever himself away from the door.

 

  

They stumble their way to the bed, losing t-shirts on the way, and sink together, a sprawl of arms and legs into the thick duvet.  Disentangling himself, Luke retreats to the bottom of the bed.  Desperate not to lose contact, Craig finds himself reaching after him, scratching more roughly than he means to down Luke's bare back as Luke kicks off his own boots and removes his socks, before turning his attention to Craig's; fumbling a little with the zipper. 

 

Impatiently Craig yanks Luke hard against him, revelling in the sensation of his lover's smooth skin rubbing against his chest and stomach; hissing when Luke's pink nipples harden beneath his questing fingers.  Luke twists in his arms, his hand deliberately rubbing the length of Craig's erection inside the thickness of the leather.

 

 "Like that?" he growls softly against Craig's ear, biting gently at the lobe.

 

 

Craig thinks he could come just like this.  He lifts his hips from the bed pleadingly.  “Please Luke.”

 

"It's all right my love, shh."  Luke reaches down, easing his fingers inside the stiff waistband to release the hook fastening and rasps the zip down with his teeth.  His tongue insinuates its way inside, cooling Craig's overheated flesh as he slides his hands beneath the leather, slipping them into Craig's boxers to ease them down over his thighs at the same time as the trousers.

 

Craig shudders when the tips of Luke's fingers move along his shaft in teasingly light strokes, and can't stop a noise that sounds like protest escaping from his lips when it stops.  Luke stands by the bed, his hands hovering at the front of his own leathers.

 

"Am I leaving these on?”

 

 

Mouth dry, it is as much as Craig can do to nod, pulling Luke down on top of him to rub against the luxurious leather, which feels even better now against his exposed skin.

 

Kneeling above him on the bed, straddling his legs, Luke's hands roam over Craig's body, twisting his nipples, tracing patterns across his skin with his nails; making him twitch.  He rolls them over across the duvet so Craig can grind against his thigh as Luke kisses him hard, sending little jolts of pleasure down through his groin.

 

Craig's entire body is shaking as Luke hooks both legs about him flattening them together.  His is cock pressed into the leather.  He's so hard - it's impossible for him not to thrust against the now slippery, wet warmth.  Luke's hot, and sexy as hell under him, drinking him in with those dark brown eyes, and it’s

  

so

 

fucking

  

An explosion of heat, with Luke whispering something unintelligible in his ear, and he collapses across the glistening body beneath him, his breath ragged and raw in the back of his throat.  Soothing hands stroke the hair back away from his eyes.

 

"Don't ever stop surprising me will you?" Luke asks, smiling up at him.

 

 

 

**The End**

 


End file.
